Blurry
by ice shredder
Summary: "I came back through the curtain and I was over come by a feeling of inadequacy." Brief one-shot based on Finn's most heartbreaking 8/28/16 tweet and one-word tumblr prompt. 'T' for safety. Enjoy!


**Title: Blurry**

 **Fandom: Wrestling**

 **Author: ice shredder**

 **Disclaimer: Finn Balor is the property of WWE and himself.**

 **Summary: "I came back through the curtain and I was over come by a feeling of inadequacy." Brief one-shot based on Finn's most heartbreaking 8/28/16 tweet and one-word tumblr prompt. And also because there's a serious lack of decent Summerslam aftermath fics from Finn's POV. Since it's 1st person, I'll sprinkle in some of Finn's Irish accent, so don't be surprised to see 'the' as 'da' or 'this' as 'dis' and so on from time to time.**

 **Special note:** _ **'a mhac'**_ **literally translates to** _ **son.**_ **Finn's mother uses this to comfort him when he's upset about being out for six months.**

 **Enjoy and don't forget to review! :)**

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What a week dis has been.

I lay upright in a specially made Lazy-Boy recliner with a black blanket wrapped around my lower body, clutching a giraffe plushie in my uninjured left hand. Stared a hole in the ceiling till my eyes unfocused. Me folks left earlier in the afternoon for a night out on the town at my insistence. Now, with the silence pressing in I almost wished they stayed but I quickly shook that clingy thought out of my head. Git a grip Finn. Yer a grown-ass man for God sakes. Stop acting like a teenage girl.

But it's hard. This may sound stupid, but I was never keen on being alone for extended periods of time, even though I'm an introvert by nature. It's part of the reason I always ran in groups throughout my personal life and wrestling career. If I don't have something-like Legos-or someone to occupy my time, my thoughts...tend to get loud. And they're not always filled with sunshine and rainbows.

I felt wrenching sobs struggle to break free from a place deep within my soul but I swallowed them back. This can't be happening. I feel like one of those people who survive a deeply traumatizing incident. Like this whole situation was happening to someone else.

I hope it's not some form of PTSD or whatever. That would add another layer of misery I neither want nor need. But the quiet of my Orlando home wouldn't be ignored and soon I found my weary eyes drifting shut. Getting lost in the memories that led me to sitting in this chair.

In the span of twenty-four hours, I went from standing at the top of the mountain at Summerslam on that turnbuckle, soaking up the crowd's love and excitement as the inaugural WWE Universal Champion, to gingerly stepping in da ring on Monday Night RAW with my right arm in a sling.

Being forced to relinquish my hard-won prize-the culmination of an 18 year dream-crushed me. Worse than any injury was the feeling dat I let da fans and my family and friends down. I stood there, microphone in hand with the sudden desire to delay handing over my belt as long as I could. I realized that after I spoke my piece, this would be the last time in a while dat I would see and feel the fans and dat electrifying rush I get only when I'm in the squared circle.

Okay Finn. It's time. Just say wat ya need to say. Just don't think about da fact that yer leaving the fans behind for six months. Don't think about dat ache in yer chest. Or dat nagging sense of loneliness when ya watch the telly and see yer friends wrestle without you for half a year.

Or dat you hid yer tear-stained face in a towel when the doctor broke the bad news in the trainer's room after the championship match ended.

Or dat someone else is gonna be holding yer championship verra soon.

Or dat yer gonna be missin' out on all the overseas tours for da rest of the year.

I blinked my eyes to derail those negative thoughts, took a deep breath and launched into my speech, trying my best not to break down and sob uncontrollably in front of everyone.

And the very **last** thing I wanna do is upset da fans even more than they are already.

I managed to make it through my speech without crying, although a healthy amount of sniffling was involved, no tears leaked through. When I assured the crowd that I would be back soon and going for the Universal Title, the entire arena grew agitated. I heard many voices crying out 'No!' as I prepared to give up my belt. Damn near ripped my heart out and nearly set the waterworks in motion.

But I bit my lip.

 _Suck it up, Balor. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of these people._

When Mick approached to take the belt, my grip tightened around the studded front plate on instinct. This was really it. Now that the moment I'd been dreading had finally arrived, I didn't want to let go.

But reality refused to entertain my childish reflex to cling to an accolade that in all honesty-until I got my shoulder repaired-I couldn't realistically defend unless I was 100 percent healthy.

Mick seemed to understand my struggle because he paused to let me say my silent goodbye to the scarlet belt that in less than a day, became the most important possession I would ever own. It felt like letting go of a first love that I never truly got to savor and cherish, nor fight for. But I had no choice in the matter.

Slowly, gently, Mick slid the belt off my shoulder and placed it on his own. Suddenly I felt hollow inside. The feeling persisted when he raised my good arm into the air to the encouraging applause and shouts of 'Thank you Finn!' from the emotional crowd.

All too soon I was behind the curtain posing with mum for a FinnFreeze. It wasn't till after I posted the photo to Twitter and Instagram when a strong surge of inadequacy hit me like a ton of bricks.

I had failed. Failed me friends. My parents who'd come all the way from Ireland just to see me compete in the most important match of my career. And most importantly, I felt like I let down the entire WWE Universe. My smile vanished and didn't return until after I went through the surgery and was settled back in my house left to my own devices.

Which usually I don't care to entertain too closely unless there's a friend or Legos close by. Like I said. I don't handle prolonged silences well-

My eyes snapped open and I gasped. Funny. The light seemed to be brighter last I checked. So I must've fallen asleep.

But I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sharp wave of sorrow in my chest and I blindly felt for my phone. Unlocking it with my left hand I slowly accessed my Twitter account. I needed to get this pain out of my system and tweeting about this week was the only thing left I could do to connect with the outside world.

I decided to post a rapid-fire series of tweets. Raw. Uncensored. _Real._ As Enzo would say, I needed to 'keep things 100' with everyone. No matter how _badly_ it hurts.

 _ **FinnBalor: 2:31 pm - Aug 28 2016**_

 _ **What a week this has been. I woke up the morning of Summerslam with nothing but positivity and feeling physically better than ever.**_

 _ **2:32 pm - Aug 28 2016**_

 _ **The moment I got injured I knew it was serious, it was an instinctive reaction to pull on my wrist, I entered survival mode.**_

I stopped to give my wrist a break. Typing with one of yer wrists at a forty degree angle is a pain in the arse but I couldn't afford to stop now. With each new tweet, I could feel the urge to weep and my heartache to lessen a bit. So after giving myself a minute I was right back at it.

It seemed like I was unable to keep a lid on my emotions. So I poured my sorrow and disappointment out into my tweets, making sure I covered everything. From my disappointment, to the impending heartbreak of what awaited me on Raw, putting a damper on my celebration and finally the tweet that I never in my thirty-five years of existence would've believed I would ever write.

 _ **FinnBalor: 2:36 pm - Aug 28 2016**_

 _ **The most difficult thing about relinquishing the title was when I came back through the curtainand I was overcome by a feeling of inadequacy**_

After a few more posts I groaned and let my phone drop onto my blanket-wrapped lap. I fell back asleep, emotionally spent and physically exhausted.

I was woken up by the front door opening. Me parents walked in and Mum must've seen I was upset because she instantly toed off her shoes and hurried to my side.

"What's wrong Fergal? Is yer shoulder bothering ye again? Do I need to get the meds-"

I held up my left hand to cut off her worried chatter.

"No mum, it's just..." I trailed off, struggling to put words to my pain. I didn't like burdening her with my problems but I was in no position to argue. My career had almost ended and I was going to be out six months. How does one cope with that? "I feel I let everyone down with this shoulder injury and I...I wanted to make you and Dad proud. And the fans. How am I gonna do this? I missed them the second I left Raw." I wiped salty remnants of dried tears and crusties out of my eyes with my good wrist.

But mum walked behind my chair and began to stroke my head, like she always did whenever I was upset as a lad.

"Hush now _a mhac,_ don't be sad. You'll be good as new verra soon. And as for da fans, they'll wait as long as it takes for you to get better."

I sniffled as I reached for my phone to check Twitter.

"I'm gonna be gone a while. What's ta say they forget about me?"

Mum placed a soft kiss to the top of my head.

"Dey won't. You want to know why?"

I paused scrolling through my tweets stopping on the one which I mentioned my inadequacy.

"Why?"

She smiled giving my head a final comforting pat before stepping away from my chair.

"Because they love you _a mhac._ "

I sat there, slightly stunned as she left the room to change into regular clothes. Shaking myself out of my stupor I began reading through the growing list of tweets from the fans.

Tears blurred in my eyes as their voices told me I was more than enough. That I wasn't inadequate. That I empowered lives and inspired others to pursue their dreams. That they loved and missed me dearly. That their hearts broke reading my tweets. I frowned when I read some of those. That wasn't my intention to cause them pain, but I couldn't take back how I felt.

But the amount of well-wishes and love coming from millions of people I would never meet was like a warm blanket wrapping around my battered heart and mind. It blew me away.

So I made this promise.

I would do whatever it took to return to the business I loved. The hardest fight was ahead of me, but I knew with friends and family and the fans' undying support I would buckle down and rehab my shoulder till it was better than before.

The fans aren't letting me go.

And I won't either.

Wait for me guys. I'm coming.

 **-end**


End file.
